


Hall of Fire

by Singe_Addams



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Dancing, Elves, Hobbits, Multi, Music, Quest, Regret, Requited Love, Rivendell, Sensuality, Singing, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singe_Addams/pseuds/Singe_Addams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fellowship has made it to Rivendell. During the celebration in the Hall of Fire Merry is inspired by the elves to take a chance. Perhaps unwisely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hall of Fire

“Where is Boromir? And the Lake Men? And the dwarves?” Merry asked as he joined Pippin on one of the Hall of Fire’s second level alcoves. Hidden from the noisy revelry below them by the balcony railing as tall as they were, the two could freely stare at everyone and everything from their high vantage point. Merry felt like a child spying on the adults’ festivities and wondered if Pippin felt the same.

“I don’t know where the dwarves are but the men all disappeared as soon as Elladin and Glorfindel began the evening’s dancing…with each other.” Pippin smiled strangely. Merry interpreted his expression as being somewhere between shock and amusement. “They stared for a moment then they all stood up and bowed to Elrond all the way to the door. It was hilarious, really.”

“How very Manly of them. They can whack at each other with clubs and knives all day but a dance? Oh no.”

“The man-elves don’t think anything about it. Look, some are even kissing right out in front of everybody.” Pippin pointed at several couples who were lazing on cushions or slouching comfortably together on overstuffed couches. “Even a few of the woman-elves...look!” A trio of maidens were lounging in front of one of the several open-pit fires and soaking up the heat while they gently gloried in the pleasure of each other’s company. “Do they do anything more? Besides kissing? Right out in front of everyone?”

“Well, the last time I was here, they were swinging naked from the light sconces.”

“Merry, you’ve never been here before!”

“Then why do you ask me these silly questions?” Pippin narrowed his eyes at him and Merry backtracked. “That is to say…”

“I was asking you what you THOUGHT they might do, Merry, not what do they do. I knew very well you didn’t know for sure.”

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” Merry reached out a hand to ruffle Pippin’s hair but Pippin swatted it away.

“All right. You’re forgiven.” Pippin turned away and Merry’s heart sank.

“Well, I think that they’ll…”

“Nevermind, Merry. We’ll find out eventually.” Merry shut up. Pippin watched Elladin and Glorfindel seize Elrond and pull him into an active step dance that took them from one end of the Hall to the other. They were joined by Elrond's daughter, Arwen, the Prince of the Wood Elves whose name Merry couldn’t remember at the moment, Elrohir and a beautiful elf-maid whose name Merry DID remember but couldn’t pronounce so he called her ‘Bob.’ Which, luckily, amused her no end. Soon an entire brigade of dancers were rollicking back and forth and the vibration of their pounding steps rattled the silver and crystal of the banqueting tables. The music and the noise were incredible and Merry realized he could understand what people were talking about by the exaggerated facial expressions and gestures they were using in order to be understood over the din.

“Whatever happened to the ‘cat-light footfalls of the elves’ I’d like to know?” Merry asked.

Pippin, fascinated, just shrugged and grinned, his good humor restored. Merry was intensely relieved. He had to depend on his cousin’s forgiving nature more than he liked to admit. “I want to give it a try. Looks like fun but I’d get trampled if I joined in, I’m sure. Look, there’s Strider.” Aragorn stepped into the Hall and was yanked immediately into place between Arwen and Elrohir. He laughed and put his arms around their waists as the elves, almost a hundred strong now, continued their joyous stomping. The musicians were playing faster and faster but Aragorn kept up easily. “I suppose he doesn’t need to be ‘manly.’ Good for you, Strider!” Pippin cheered.

Merry looked at Pippin out of the corner of his eyes and wiped his sweaty palms on his breeches. “Well, he grew up here. Oh! Look at Sam.” he said. Pippin looked at the protective island, Hobbit Isle, of deep cushions where Frodo, Sam and Bilbo were watching the dancers with delight. Sam was standing on the floor between the wild elves and the Bagginses. He was being protective but he was also beaming with joy. “Sam’s right in the middle of it and he doesn’t even look fazed. So you might survive.” The Wood Elves’ Prince mischievously veered away from the throng and jumped right over the gardener’s head. Sam ducked and laughed. Encouraged, more elves followed his example and Hobbit Jumping was incorporated into the steps. Frodo and Bilbo collapsed onto the cushions in hysterics as Sam stood bravely still. Pippin laughed so hard he leaned against Merry for support and it was all Merry could do not to bring his arms up and clutch Pippin to him with all the strength he had. Pippin moved back and applauded as Arwen and then Bob lined up to make the leap. Sam blushed, smiling, and kept his eyes on the floor as their silk dresses skimmed his hair.

“Oohhh, Sam!” Pippin called. “I’m telling the Gaffer!” The Prince who had started it all, an archer with a beautiful face and an obviously overdeveloped sense of humor (Merry decided to call him ‘Fred’ after his comedic friend Fredegar Bolger) decided to change the dance again and, after a running start, slid on his knees up to Sam, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Pippin gasped and Sam blinked in complete surprise. Then he laughed again. Frodo and Bilbo were truly howling now as Sam held stoically still, laughing shyly, as half the House of Elrond took their turn, sliding up and kissing him on his burning cheeks, his forehead, his mouth and even his neck. They hugged him and petted and poked him on the shoulders, the chest and his round belly. Pippin and Merry cheered and clapped. The old saying of Elves being merry as children was so wonderfully true.

Then Fred was back with wickedness in his eyes but, before he could come up with something new, Sam lost his nerve with a yelp and broke for the cushions. He landed hard and Frodo wrapped a comically protective arm around him. Fred looked poised to jump in after him but Bilbo took up his cane and threatened him with it. He was comically small and frail but the Elf backed down as if a dragon had appeared before him, a ludicrous expression of fright on his face. Bilbo was smug as he waved his cane.

Fred beseeched Sam to come away but the poor gardener was perfectly purple with the scandal of it all and he shook his head, giggling, and threw his arm around Frodo’s waist. Fred clutched at his heart and wandered off to die as broken hearted elves were wont to do. Bob and Arwen patted him on the back as he went and the musicians ended the dance music with a flourish. A deafening round of applause went up as the players bowed and immediately began playing again, a more sedate song this time.

Sam flopped back onto the cushions, accidentally taking the still-weak Frodo with him, and covered his eyes with his free arm, still laughing helplessly. Merry watched as Frodo slowly moved near to his red friend as if he were spelled to come closer. His lips hovered over Sam’s, only a breath away. He opened his mouth. Merry heard Pippin gasp. Frodo’s eyes went wide as he if he had heard it, too, and he disentangled himself with a shocked and fearful expression on his face. Sam opened his eyes and looked up. His good cheer disappeared at once. He pointed at Frodo’s shoulder, concerned. Frodo smiled and shook his head, shrugging a bit to show he was all right but Sam was peering closely at him, seemingly unconvinced. Frodo got up, pointing at himself and motioning towards the food tables. Sam sprang to his feet, clearly intending to save his Master the trip but, without any ado or warning, Frodo pushed him back down again. Sam went sprawling onto the cushions and gaped up in total shock. Frodo laughed down at him, waggled his finger, and walked away as Sam, wisely, stayed where he was. Bilbo had been speaking to Aragorn and hadn't noticed any of it.

Pippin, however, was astonished. “Merry, did you see what just happened down there? Frodo almost…what in the world was he thinking?”

Merry was unable to mince words or joke. “Frodo loves Sam. He has for years.” Pippin stared at him with wide eyes.

“But Frodo…he’s not like that! I’ve seen him nearly desperate over a lass. Like Beryl Underhill or my sister, Pearl.” Pippin shook his head. “No, this is ridiculous. He just forgot himself is all. When Among Elves You Do As the Elves Do, I suppose.”

“PIP!” Merry took a deep breath and calmed down. “A person can want both, y'know. Frodo's sincere, I assure you, and he wants Sam whether he’s surrounded by elves or no. I swear it makes him miserable but that’s just the way he’s built.”

“What does Sam think?”

“He doesn’t know.” Pippin was astonished and Merry moved closer and whispered. “I’ve so often wanted to tell him. I want to just shake him and yell ‘Look! Look! He loves you! Are you BLIND that you never noticed?’” Merry curled his fingers around Pippin's suspender for emphasis and felt the warmth of his friend under his knuckles. "He loves you." He drew in a gasp of air.

“But what does Sam think?” Pippin insisted. “About that sort of thing?”

Merry backed away as if Pippin had struck him. “He…well, look, he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Those are elves, Merry,” Pippin pointed out as if Merry were half-witted. “He won’t judge an elf but it will be quite a different story if a hobbit were to try anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Merry snapped, his voice intense and unhappy.

Pippin looked up, startled. “You’re taking this awfully personal.”

“I am not! I’m just,” Merry indicated the group below. “Worried. About Frodo. About Sam. I…oh, what a mess.”

Pippin nodded and the two didn’t speak again for a while. It was easier to watch the people below them and they did so with stony expressions. Frodo came back to Hobbit Island with his arms full of fruit and pastries and two bottles of wine. Bilbo greeted the feast with delight and Aragorn and Arwen smilingly accepted his invitation to join them. Frodo held out a cup of wine to Sam who took it with a smile though his eyes still worriedly studied Frodo’s face and shoulder. Whatever he saw must have reassured him for his attention was grabbed again by Elves, wonderful Elves, particularly Arwen who was smiling and speaking to him. Sam nodded and looked up at her with such honest delight and near-swooning admiration that Merry’s heart ached to see it. Frodo was pained, too, stealing glances and quickly looking away as if the sight of Sam burned him.

The musicians changed tempo again. The new song was slow, sweet and riveting and the chatter and laughter died down as the notes drifted through the air and into the souls of the listeners. The elves and hobbits and one man, Aragorn, settled back to listen with their eyes closed. Frodo and Sam were directly next to each other and Frodo’s arms were crossed over his chest. So near yet so far as the old saying went and Merry sighed.

The musicians continued playing, low and slow, an almost unbearably intimate and soft song of love and desire and Merry couldn’t stand it anymore. “What do you think, Pippin?” he whispered.

Pippin took his time in answering and the flames of the scattered fires glowed upon his face. Merry could get lost in the sight but Pippin’s voice gently brought him out of his reverie. “I think it’s very sad. Wanting someone for so long so badly. And Sam right there, just inches away. I can’t imagine how that must feel.” Pippin put his hands on his hips and huffed in pained aggravation. “Poor Frodo. I’ll stop playing tricks on him for a week or so.”

Merry smiled. “Small comfort but he’ll appreciate it.” The song. That blasted song was working up his spine and it throbbed, just throbbed, with want. Hunger’s heartbeat, it caressed every part of him and, oh, no, the flames of the Hall were dying and intimate shadows were spreading. He and Pippin were almost completely in the dark. “But, Pip.” No. Don’t ask. Pippin’s forgiving nature surely wouldn' cover this. But Merry was weary and, yes, desperate. “What do you think about…” Don’t. Don’t do it. “That sort of thing?” Merry pointed at Fred the Wood Elf Prince, amazingly recovered from his heartbreak and nearly invisible in the dim light, as he stroked the black hair of Elladin and kissed him.

Pippin’s expression began as an amused sort of ‘Now I’ve Seen Everything’ smile but it faded as surprise and then reluctant suspicion took over. Pippin shifted his weight from one foot to the other and, watching him, Merry wanted to scream. Finally, cautiously, Pippin glanced at him. “Why do you ask?”

Merry considered. He could still back out and claim simple curiosity but, no, damn it, he couldn’t stand the pain and uncertainty a moment longer. Best to lose everything than stay in limbo anymore but, oh, he’d be losing his best friend and don’t do this he won’t forgive this you’ll be sorry - Pippin waited patiently.

Acting quickly, or he would flee screaming, Merry moved in close, thankfully avoided stepping on a foot, and kissed Pippin on the mouth. Not good enough. Too fast. Merry bent his head again, one hand clinging white-knuckled to the railing, the other hovering in space over Pip's shoulder, and kissed him again. He wanted to linger there, forever, but the Took gently turned his head away and stepped back.

It took a while but Merry finally found the courage to look his dearest friend in the eyes. They were sharp, cautious, and Merry could not, for the life of him, discern what Pip was thinking. He quickly looked away again. “What,” Pippin slowly asked, “Was that?”

Merry braced his elbow on his left hand and scrubbed his face with his right. “The elves don’t care. And I’m tired of caring. We could both be dead the moment we leave Elrond’s protection and I had…I had to try, at least once.”

“Hundreds of affectionate Elves all over the place, Merry, why do you want to pick on me?” If anything, Pippin sounded hurt.

“I love you.”

Pippin blinked. Merry, this time, refused to look away. “Is this a joke?” Pippin whispered.

“No.” Merry hopelessly kept going. “No, you have no idea, Pip, how beautiful you are. I've wanted this for so long.” He reached out slowly and rested his fingertips on the pulse in Pippin's neck, just under his soft, golden hair. "I've wanted you for so long." He saw the sudden comprehension, the belief, in the other's expression and waited, in agony, for the verdict.

Pippin dropped his eyes. He put his hand on Merry’s arm and lowered it. “Good night,” was all he said. Then he walked stiffly away from the balcony, down the steps, and was gone.

Merry clutched the rail again and held still. Breathe. He was, he was breathing, breathing, breathing. But there was no air. The music was suffocating him. Every loving note poisoned the room with dark hurt. He looked down at Hobbit Isle again just in time to see Frodo take and hold Sam’s hand. It was a moment before Sam could escape the soporific effects of the Hall of Fire to open one eye in surprise. But then Merry saw him squeeze Frodo’s hand in response. Eyes still closed, Frodo smiled. Breathe.

“Damn you both.” Merry whispered and turned away.

 

 

End


End file.
